


Extra-sensory Perception, aka Spidey Senses

by Cryptand_Bismol (orphan_account)



Series: Ichor [3]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Peter Parker Friendship, Eldritch, Eldritch Bucky, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Not nearly as angsty as the summary makes it sound, Science Experiments, Spidey Sense (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-12 01:05:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18000869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Cryptand_Bismol
Summary: "He attempted to speak, clawing at the thing wrapped around his neck. Glancing down, he sees not skin, not human anyway, but a long gelatinous appendage. His eyes tracked down the limb to its origin, a humanoid being with skin like the night sky and a face contorted with anger. The feeling was choking him just as much as the tentacle was, dread and fear and indescribable horror seeping into every pore."





	Extra-sensory Perception, aka Spidey Senses

**Author's Note:**

> I got a bit too excited talking about Peter's literal bedroom chemistry, and this will definitely not work as a synthesis but shhhh let me live my dreams

Peter wasn’t technically supposed to patrol the city, not without back-up anyway, but he knew it gave the public confidence that there was someone always looking out for them. It was just a bonus that it was so fun swinging from building to building and climbing up the tallest of skyscrapers.

He had just strayed into Brooklyn, smiling to himself as kids point at him in awe and occasionally lowering himself down to give them a high-five, when he felt it. He’d sensed things this way before, fleeting glimpses of danger, but this was stronger, much stronger. It was a dark, powerful thing, something that screamed danger and terror. It intensified as he headed a few blocks over, thrumming through him and, if he wasn’t so determinedly stubborn, he would escape the city and never look back. He zeroed in on the source, an apartment on the fifth floor of an otherwise unremarkable apartment block. Bracing himself, he swung forward to gather momentum, before releasing the web and tucked into a roll as he smashed through the window.

He landed roughly, hitting his head on a table and causing a pot to shatter on the floor. Hopping up from the floor, he barely had a chance to glance around the room before something was pinning him to the wall by his throat.

“Gah,” he attempted to speak, clawing at the thing wrapped around his neck. Glancing down, he sees not skin, not human anyway, but a long gelatinous appendage. His eyes tracked down the limb to its origin, a humanoid being with skin like the night sky and a face contorted with anger. The feeling was choking him just as much as the tentacle was, dread and fear and indescribable horror seeping into every pore.

“Peter?!” he heard a voice say, only belatedly recognising it, “Buck, it’s ok, put him down!”

Suddenly he could breathe again, and he dropped to his feet, chest heaving, as he felt arms around him, guiding him to the sofa. The feeling broke like a fever, filled instead with warmth that was only partly due to the man beside him. His mask was pulled off, but he was too busy trying to just _breathe_ to care.

“Peter? Are you ok?”

“Captain Rogers?” he rasped, “What? Who-”

“Shh, you’ll hurt your throat more if you speak.” He felt Cap’s head turn, addressing the creature, “Get him some water, please.”

There was clinking from the kitchen, and the sound of a running tap, followed by soft footsteps and a man’s face came into view, crouched before him, glass in hand. It was the same face as the one he saw earlier, but now with human skin and an apologetic smile on his face, “Here you go, kid. Sorry about the whole, uh, choking thing.”

Peter gulped the water down, his throat soothed a little, “No, it was my fault really,” he croaked, “I did crash through your window.”

Captain Rogers glanced to the flapping curtains with a frown, “Yes, I was wondering why you did that, actually.”

“My Spidey senses were tingling,” he said without thought, cringing when he realised how odd that sounded.

“...Your what?”

Peter fought down his blush, “It’s, uh, what Tony calls it. Extra-sensory perception. Your apartment was screaming ‘danger’ and I thought I’d help out.”

“Yeah, that was probably my fault,” Cap’s apparent friend said, “I tend to give out that kind of aura.”

“What are you?” he blurted, “I’m so sorry, that was so incredibly rude. I didn’t mean- I just meant that, well, you have tentacles! Which is actually pretty cool, but obviously that’s not a common thing-”

“Calm down, kid,” he said amused, “My name’s Bucky.”

He paused, turning then to look at Captain Rogers and the pair shared a silent conversation, Peter’s eyes darting between the two of them. They must have agreed on something, for Bucky smiled gratefully at him and turned back to Peter, “Ok, we’re going to trust you with this, but you mustn’t tell anyone, especially not Stark.” He stepped back from the couch, and his skin seemed to melt away until Peter was staring up at the creature who he had encountered earlier, tentacles and all. The fear he felt then was gone, for although the man had a hint of terror about him, caused his hands to shake and blood pound in his ears, he looked kind and relaxed.

“I’m a HYDRA experiment, created in 1943 as a fusion between a man and a being known in your language as the Entity. The face I wear is the same one as the boy who died all those years ago. I am simultaneously 100 years old and older than the universe. I used to exist between realities, outside of time, but when I was fused to that soldier I became limited to this universe. In the eyes of every country on the planet, I officially don’t exist.”

“So, you’re an alien?” Peter asked excitedly.

“In a sense.” He said, evidentially surprised by how unfazed Peter was by this.

“And you’re technically a fugitive?”

“You can only be wanted if people know you exist. But I guess I could be classed as one.”

“And you’re living with Captain America?”

“I wouldn’t just say living with,” Bucky grinned, “We’re, uh, together actually.”

“Oh my god. This is _so cool_. Captain America, _the_ Captain America has an experimental interdimensional human-alien hybrid boyfriend, who is also a fugitive. This is the best day of my life!” Peter almost bounced out of his seat, grabbing Captain Rogers’ shoulder with enthusiasm. He flinched slightly when he jostled his own neck bringing a hand up to rub at the tender skin.

“Easy there, Pete,” Cap frowned at him in concern, “How’s your throat? Can I have a look?”

“Sure,” he said, pulling down the top of his costume so he could see, “It feels a lot better, a little sore but I’ll be ok.”

Warm fingers brushed against his neck, and Captain Rogers let out a pained noise, “Oh god, Tony is going to kill me.”

“Why? Is it bad? What’s wrong?” he asked, standing up and making his way to the bathroom. Uh oh. His neck was already bruising, the areas that weren’t an angry red were mottled with blues and purples. “Oh my god, May is going to kill me. And Mr Stark. I’ll be grounded for life.”

“It’s fine, it’ll be fine. We’ll just explain it was all a misunderstanding. Or... or say it was an accident! That you got caught up in your webs!” Cap was pacing, almost tugging at his hair.

Bucky was watching on, a thoughtful look on his face, “I could try something. Though I’m not sure it’ll work.”

Peter looked at him desperately, “You can fix it?”

“Not completely. The pain may still be there, but I might be able to mask the physical appearance like I do my own.”

He led Peter to a bedroom, getting him to lie back in the soft sheets. Captain Rogers was lingering in the corner, looking over at him worriedly; Peter smiled reassuringly at him, and he seemed to relax a little more, choosing to perch on the edge of the bed and place a comforting hand on Peter’s ankle.

Bucky came up to his side, hands hovering over him, “Peter, I need to touch your neck again. Is that ok?”

“Sure thing, sir.” He said, giving Bucky a double thumbs-up.

“You’re too good, kid,” he said fondly, placing his hand on Peter’s neck, gently this time. It hurt a little, the skin still sensitive, but he braced himself. Bucky pressed down a little harder, and he felt something wet and sticky spread across his skin, the sensation a little uncomfortable. Suddenly his neck was growing hot, almost burning, and he cried out.

“Bucky!” Captain Rogers yelled in warning, gripping Peter’s ankle tighter.

“I know, shh, it’s ok. I’m nearly finished, I promise.” He said, running his free hand through Peter’s hair in reassurance. The heat was almost unbearable, but Peter clenched his teeth as hard as he could and breathed out heavily through his nose. As quickly as the heat appeared, it dissipated, and with a final swipe of his thumb across Peter’s jaw, Bucky removed his hand, “There we go. Good as new. It should hold for at least a week, but if you notice it fading just call me. Well, call Steve.”

Peter hopped up from the bed and pulled Bucky into a hug, making the other man ‘oof’ in surprise, “Thanks Bucky!”

Bucky stood awkwardly, but eventually wrapped his arms around the excitable teen and patted his back warmly, “Least I could do, considering.”

Peter finally let go, grinning up at him, before turning to Cap and practically throwing himself into his arms, “You’re the best, Captain!”

He chuckled and held Peter tight, “How many times do I have to tell you, please call me Steve.”

“But that’s so weird! It’s like calling your dad by their first name.” Peter’s voice was muffled by his shirt.

“I can sense this is an argument you two have had before,” Bucky chimed in.

Steve smiled cheekily as Peter ended the hug, “You have Spidey senses too?”

Peter grumbled a little, but didn’t comment, while Bucky just rolled his eyes, pretending he wasn’t beaming, “Thinks he’s so clever.”

They relocated back into the living room, as Steve asked, “You want to stay for dinner, Peter?”

“I’d love to, but I promised May I’d be back before six. She thinks I’m studying with Mr Stark.”

“Ah, to be young and to have a curfew.” Bucky said, “It was good to meet you Peter. That offer for dinner is an open invitation; come around whenever you like.”

“Thank you, I will.

“Though please use the door next time.”

Peter looked abashed, “I’m sorry about that. I can get it fixed!”

“I don’t think Stark is paying you that well, kid. Don’t worry about it, really.”

Peter hugged them both again, calling out goodbyes even as he headed down the corridor. Neither of them were surprised when barely two minutes later there was a knock at the door, and Steve held out the forgotten mask with a smile.

 

* * *

 

 

The man had a boyish face, short brunette tresses slicked back into a loose pompadour, his eyes bright. She couldn’t pin-point his age, the youth of a twenty-something, but the way he held himself screamed that he was older. He had a peculiar air about him, seemed powerful in a way May couldn’t quite understand, though she did not feel ill-at-ease around him.

“Can I help you?”

“Ah, yes, I’m here to see Peter?” the man said, his Brooklyn accent thick, but with a hint of something foreign, like he had lived abroad for many years. Even with if he was in his twenties, he was a little old to be hanging around with a 17-year-old, and concern washed over her.

“Oh! He didn’t mention he had anyone coming over.” She said, shifting back a little, and narrowing the crack of the open door minutely.

“Sorry, it was a very last-minute thing,” the man said, “Said he wanted to go over some results from the lab before work tomorrow.”

It sounded rehearsed, ever so slightly, but she didn’t know if it was just because of how protective she felt over Peter. It didn’t help that Stark had enemies, and anyone who worked for him could be a target too. While Stark had been very reassuring about the level of security Peter and herself would have, she knew her own vigilance was invaluable in keeping them safe.

“I’ll just get him for you, give me a few minutes,” she said politely as she could muster, before shutting the door softly and heading to Peter’s door. Knocking twice, she called out as she entered the room

“Peter, there’s someone for you at the door.”

He practically sprinted past her, and she followed him with a small shake of the head and amused smile at his excitement, “You didn’t say you invited someone over.”

“Sorry May, slipped my mind,” he said, unlatching the door, and smiling apprehensively at the man.

Odd. She knew Peter got anxious at times, but with people he was friends with, at least those he invited round, he was usually more laid-back. And he was always courteous and asked her multiple times if it was really ok if he had a friend over and _are you sure?_ She raised her eyebrow in silent question at his uncharacteristic behaviour, but he just looked away with a half-shrug and turned his attention back to the man in the doorway.

“May, this is... James. From work.” He deflected, “James, this is my Aunt May.”

“Wonderful to meet you, Mrs Parker.” James said, stepping forward into the room and throwing her a charming smile.

“Oh, please call me May.”

“Sorry, of course. Thank you for letting me into your home, May.”

She is about to reply, but Peter is already half-pushing James towards his room, “We’ll see you later May! I really need to get through this work before tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to put anything on for dinner?” she called.

“Thanks, but we’ll just get a takeaway!” his muffled reply came, before there was the sound of the door shutting.

Well.

 

* * *

 

 

“Thank you so, so much for agreeing to this!” Peter practically bounced around his room, gathering various items from cupboards and drawers and even crawling under the bed to retrieve several bottles with orange warning labels screaming at them.

“Well, it makes a nice change, putting it to some use; Steve only ever complains about it. He’s got a rota of where he buys sheets and towels so they don’t think he’s weird.” Bucky shook his head, smiling wistfully, “It’s not all bad though, he got sick of buying new shirts so he just walks around topless most of the time.”

Peter blanched, “I really don’t need to know that.”

“Your loss, kid.” And Bucky looked way too lost in his thoughts about Captain Rogers for Peter to be comfortable.

“Do you, uh, want to collect it now? Or do you already have some prepared?” Peter said, quickly changing the subject.

“I collected some at home,” he said, pulling a jar out of seemingly nowhere, “Though I can always get some more now if you need it.”

“Do I want to know how you produce that stuff?” he asked, taking the jar, and holding it up to the light. It was pressed against one side of the container, the side closest to Bucky, as though it were magnetised to him.

“Do I want to know how you produce those webs?”

“Hey! I synthesise them!”

Bucky paused and tilted his head to look at him, “Huh, so you don’t, uh, _make_ it?”

“What? No? You think I pull it out of my- gross dude.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen weirder. And you are called Spiderman. What else am I supposed to think?”

“I was bitten by a spider, I didn’t become one,” he grumbled as he prodded at the ichor with his spatula, “So, how _do_ you produce it?”

“It’s spontaneous, the same way humans give off energy in the form of heat. My original form used to produce copious amounts of it, enough that when HYDRA got a hold of even a small part of me they were able to use it to- well let’s not get into that.”

“But you don’t produce it in this form?”

“No, the excess energy I need to hold it detracts from ichor production.”

“Huh. Doesn’t that mean you could stay in this form and keep all the stuff in your house clean?”

Bucky grinned toothily, “But then Steve wouldn’t have a reason to go shirtless.”

“I don’t want to hear this.” Peter groaned, “This is _the_ Captain America we’re talking about!”

“Mhmm, don’t I know it.”

“Ok, let’s just get on with the test before you ruin my childhood hero.” He said, weighing and measuring out several different chemicals and setting them aside. Pulling out a conical flask, he tipped the toluene in and made sure to bung the flask while he set up the hot plate.

“Was he really your childhood hero? That is adorable.”

“Yes, well, one of them anyway.”

“Who were the others?”

“My parents; they were scientists. I found out from Mr Stark that they even did some work for SHIELD before I was born. And, of course, my other hero is Mr Stark. I was at the Stark Expo that was attacked when I was a kid and he saved my life!”

“Wow, you bring a whole new level to the phrase hero worship.” Bucky made his way to Peter’s side, observing the experiment in front of him, “This looks a lot simpler than I anticipated. When are you going to put the ichor in?”

Peter set a flask of methanol onto the hot plate, dropping in the magnetic stirrer bar and a few anti-bumping granules just to be sure, “Hmm, well I need the ichor to polymerise with the rest of the monomers, assuming that it does actually incorporate into the polymer. I probably should have checked before, but do you know of any chemicals it reacts with?”

“Nothing I’ve ever used has really affected it; water, deodorant, aftershave... I’ve spilt alcohol on myself before, as well as antiseptic alcohol, and it didn’t do anything either.

“Damn, it might not react with the methanol as planned. I suppose as long as the initial monomers react I can add in the ichor and hope it incorporates. It’s likely to change the morphology, but if cross-linking is increased that could be a good thing for the strength.”

He set about beginning the synthesis, switching off the heat, and waiting for a minute after he added the last chemical before picking up the ichor. He tried pipetting it, but the viscosity made it impossible, and he resorted to wrapping the fluid around a glass rod like candyfloss. Actually having some level of self-preservation, he pulled his goggles down over his face and indicated that Bucky should do the same. The reaction was proceeding as normal, with a few wisps of webbing visible on the bottom. Standing well back, he held out the rod with a gloved hand, shaking it heavily and watching as a drop slurped down like honey into the beaker.

Nothing outwardly happened, no noxious gases, no fires or explosions, and both men let out a sigh of relief.

They removed their protective equipment, sitting comfortably on the bed, and chatting as they watched the reaction proceed. The webbing, usually a stark white, was slowly darkening, not quite to the interstellar darkness of Bucky’s normal skin, but close.

“Should be ready to test out soon!” Peter cheered, pulling his glove back on and prodding the mixture with a beam. Weeks of practice made filling up the web cartridge easy, and soon he was slotting it into the web shooter.

“Where are you planning on testing that?”

“Just in the room somewhere, I guess. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Bucky blinked at him, “Many things, very many things, Peter.”

“It’s how I tested out all my other formulas.”

“I can see why you looked up to Steve. And Stark. You’re just as mad as the both of them.”

But Peter only preened a bit at being compared to his heroes, aiming the web shooter at the door and grinning almost manically, “Well, here goes!”

He pulled the trigger and the web shot out with a sound like a sonic blast, the force reverberating the door and probably most of the walls in the apartment. Bucky jumped back on the bed in surprise, jostling the springs heavily. Thick black webbing was coating the door and the wall in the corner of the room, and Peter’s eyes widened comically, “That is so cool.”

“There is no way your Aunt did not hear that.”

“Oh crap,” Peter said, rushing over to the chest of drawers and shoving the dirty glassware inside with only just enough care not to smash anything. Bucky was up from the bed, shrugging his coat off and hanging it on the back of the door to cover the very indiscreet black stain. He grabbed some of the equipment too, pushing it far under the bed and throwing himself on the mattress when he heard footsteps approaching. Peter grabbed the hotplate, forgetting that it was still hot, and moaned in pain when his palm stung. He grabbed it more carefully the second time, shoving it under the bed haphazardly.

“Shit, Peter, are you ok?” Bucky hissed, grabbing his wrist to inspect his palm, “Oh! Peter, you’ve still got the web shooter on!”

Peter panicked and flung himself across the room again, tossing the device into the wardrobe and _just_ managing to close it and lean back casually when the door opened and his aunt stepped in.

_“What on earth is going on in here?”_

 

* * *

 

 

They had been shut up in the room for a while, both very quiet with only the occasional louder bark of laughter being heard, when she almost jumped out of her chair at a loud crash that originated from the room. Hurrying to the door, her fist was half raised to knock when she heard it; hushed whispers, mixed with the sound of springs creaking on the mattress and _, oh god_ , was that a moan?! Her heart almost stopped at what she was hearing. She considered herself a fairly easy-going guardian, very open with Peter and fair, but there was no way in hell this man was sleeping with her _underage nephew,_ not on her watch.

She knocked once as a warning, protective but not wanting to see him baring all, before bursting into the room, “What on earth is going on in here?”

She blinked at the unexpected sight before her. James was sitting cross-legged on the bed, looking a little _too_ innocent, but otherwise normal. He wasn’t wearing his jacket, and the heavy boots were resting unlaced by the wardrobe. While James had at least made an attempt to look normal, Peter had anything but. He was leaning back against the wardrobe, arms crossed, doing his best to look nonchalant and failing. He looked a little flushed, hair ruffled, but thankfully clothed.

“Oh, May!” Peter’s voice was slightly wobbly, “We’re just talking, work stuff, y’know?”

“I thought I heard... noises.” She said delicately.

“Noises? Ha, I just tripped over, is all.”

James nodded from the bed, giving her a smile that would be considered incredibly charming if she wasn’t _so_ onto him, “Honestly, he trips over his own feet at work all the time. Though this time it was mostly my fault, leaving my shoes in the middle of the floor.”

“Uh huh, and that’s why you were moaning?”

“Moaning? I, ha, May, no, really absolutely no. It was a groan. A groan of pain because Bu- _James_ ’ boots must be steel-capped or something.”

She was not convinced, “Peter, you know I want you to be happy, but you’re underage and James here has to at least be in his mid-twenties-”

“No! You- oh my god, _no_ , I am not _sleeping with James_!” he squeaked.

All colour seemed to have drained from James’ face, “I really did not need that image in my head, holy shit. Really, Mrs Parker – May – I have no desire to do anything remotely romantic or – oh god – sexual with your nephew.”

“Even if I did want to – which I one hundred percent do not, by the way – he has a boyfriend who is the buffest man who I have ever met and could snap me like a twig.”

“Nah, you’d be fine. You’re impossible to stay mad at and he’d just give you his puppy dogs eyes and then feel guilty he made you sad,” James said thoughtfully from the bed, his tone fond, though the colour had yet to return to his face, “Me though? Oh boy. He wouldn’t even care that much that I cheated on him – which I would like to clarify that I would _never_ do – but he would kill me for even thinking about touching you.”

Huh. So maybe she’d jumped to conclusions, because that was the most genuine either of them had sounded this evening.

“Ok, ok, so you’re not sleeping together,” she relaxed a little against the wall, “But what are you really doing in here?”

“I- Mr Stark wants us to make some new tech for the Avengers. And we just wanted to test it out before we presented it to him tomorrow and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Peter,” she said softly, going over to give him a hug, “I’m going to worry whatever you do, but that doesn’t mean I won’t support you. I’m not going to say that you working for the Avengers doesn’t scare me, but I know this is your dream and I respect that you’re smart enough to take care of yourself. Besides, Stark knows that if anything happens to you I’ll kick his ass.”

“Thanks May,” she could feel him smile into her shirt.

She pulled back, hands lingering on Peter’s shoulder while she turned to look at James, “I’ll leave you boys to your top-secret experiments. Just try not to destroy your room.”

“I’ll be sure to keep him in check.”

They shared an appraising look, eventually smiling at each other before May left the room and closed the door softly behind her.


End file.
